Wisconsin native, conservative critic of everything.
"Once abolish the God, and the government becomes the God." ---G K Chesterton
"The only objective of Liberty is Life" --G K Chesterton
"Fallacies do not cease to be fallacies because they become fashions" --G K Chesterton
"A man can never have too much red wine, too many books, or too much ammunition." -- Rudyard Kipling

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Veterans' Day

It seemed that out of the battle I escapedDown some profound dull tunnel, long since scoopedThrough granites which titanic wars had groined.Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned, Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.

Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and staredWith piteous recognition in fixed eyes,Lifting distressful hands as if to bless.And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall;By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.

With a thousand pains that vision’s face was grained,Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground,And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan.“Strange friend,” I said, “here is no cause to mourn.”

“None,” said the other, “save the undone years,The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,Was my life also; I went hunting wildAfter the wildest beauty in the world,Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,But mocks the steady running of the hour,And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here.

For by my glee might many men have laughed,And of my weeping something had been left,Which must die now. I mean the truth untold,The pity of war, the pity war distilled.

Now men will go content with what we spoiled,Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled.They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress,None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.

Courage was mine, and I had mystery,Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery,To miss the march of this retreating world Into vain citadels that are not walled.

Then when much blood had clogged their chariot wheelsI would go up and wash them from sweet wells,Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.I would have poured my spirit without stintBut not through wounds; not on the cess of war.Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.

I am the enemy you killed, my friend.I knew you in this dark; for so you frownedYesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.Let us sleep now….”